


Freshly Brewed

by Madsmadsmads



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Coffee, Fluff, M/M, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, nose, peaceful moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2019-07-18
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:12:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16387496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madsmadsmads/pseuds/Madsmadsmads
Summary: In which an early rising Severus Snape finds himself a moment of peace





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea that got lodged in my head and had to get out. As this is my first Fiction that I am posting, I hope you all enjoy it.

Severus Snape prided himself on his keen nose. The size, something that hundreds have made fun of past and present, didn't matter. Or at least, he thought ruefully, didn't matter as long as he wasn't staring in a mirror for any long length of time. If he did, then it was only a matter of time before his mind would wander to words unpleasant. The shape also didn't matter- as long as he kept his hands to himself, he could ignore the uneven bump in the center caused by a skirmish during a time when only larger injuries were deserving of magical attention. Privately, he missed his nose's former straightness; therefore, as long as he physically avoided it, he could keep the mental map of his face unchanged. But, on a good day, he went through whole stretches of appreciating and sometimes even liking his nose.  
  
Most often, he enjoyed his nose and its ability during breakfast. What wasn't there to love? His nose would catch the fresh scent of coffee as it curled out of its mug, ran over his lip, and went on to intermingle with all other aspects of breakfast. The Great Hall would border on silence as each inhabitant gradually woke up but, unfortunately, the din would rise with their level of consciousness. This was why, even three years after the war, he would wake up as early as he did. While some liked to wake to watch a sunrise, Severus liked to catch the first scents of breakfast being made before the rest of the world intruded. 

  
It was this habit that made it possible for him to catch a different scent altogether. 

  
Neville seated himself two chairs away from Severus without saying a word. Whether that was intentional slight or not, Severus couldn't guess as he side-eyed his unexpected early morning companion. While there was no love lost between the two during wartime, they got along civilly enough as professors. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Neville lean back into his chair and close his eyes. Severus braced for the smell of whatever repugnant cologne that Neville's Gryffindor sensibilities thought was a pleasant smell and therefore splashed too much of it on himself before coming down to the Great Hall. But what wafted delicately toward Severus wasn't cologne. It wasn't even soap.   
  
He smelled like yeast and soil. Not like the yeast that gives off the prickling scent of something rancid, but rather of the yeast of a bread still rising, not yet ready for the oven. And not like the dirt that the dog brings in that makes you wrinkle your nose; but like the scent of rain making first contact with dry soil or like the richness of planting soil. He smelled like something new and growing and ready to become the best version of himself. Like something that will only bring good things with it. Something wholesome. Happy.   
  
  
Severus inhaled once again and smiled. Coffee was just being put on.


	2. With Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
> Absolutely not a soul:  
> Me: Anyways, here's a new chapter that no one asked for.

It wasn't that Neville loved getting up early - in fact, if he could get away with it, he'd much prefer to sleep until noon. Unfortunately, getting up early was required of Neville if he wanted to keep on top of his job. So, he would steadfastly rise and meet the morning head-on to take a tour of the farm grounds of Hogwarts. 

The grounds were split roughly into three fields, with the first two belonging to the Hogwart's kitchen staff. As soon as Neville sunk his boot into the soft earth at the edge of the field Flourish, the head elf of the kitchen gardens, apparated to greet him. It was a testament to how tired Neville was this particular day when the loud crack elicited no more than a dull flinch and momentary fluttering of eyelids. 

"Master Longbottom!" Flourish squealed, "We's so very honoured for you to visit us so early!"

He excited took Neville's hand to direct him towards the new trellises being built and happily nattering away about... something. Neville, meanwhile, squinted up at the eastern sky. It was barely lightened from the dark of last night. ' _Oh, I have gotten up early_.' And nodded absentmindedly at Flourish. Despite his desire to turn heel and crawl back to bed, he couldn't find it within himself to crush Flourish's excitement and allowed him to further drag him around. After all, he rarely visits the kitchen fields during the school terms. 

The third field was smaller and reserved for the growing of common magical plants. Unlike the house-elf populated kitchen fields, this one often required a more of a wizard's touch. This is why he, Madam Pomfrey, and Snape had a weekly care schedule worked out. As Neville made his way back towards the castle grounds, he paused at the magical field and estimated it was around five a.m. Still early. More than enough time to get a couple of hours of sleep and catch a late breakfast. He considered the plot of land before him. It wasn't his week to care for the field. He could leave and allow Poppy to tend to it after breakfast. But those belladonnas in the corner could use a pollinator-attractant charm and the earlier applied in the day the better. Might as well do it while he was out. 

That done, he continued on and paused before his greenhouse. Had he remembered to write out the instructions and leave gloves out? His exhausted mind offered no answer. Sighing, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. 

He took note of the sky as he left. Brighter. He had missed out on his chance to sleep for a couple of hours before the day truly began; he allowed himself a moment of mourning before trudging up the grounds with coffee on his mind. 

The Great Hall was nearly empty. Snape was sitting at the end of the table, waiting. 'Oh' Neville thought slowly as he took sleepily took his usual seat, 'The house-elves haven't made coffee yet'. He closed his eyes as he leaned back against his chair and entertained a brief fantasy about canceling his first class in favour of his bed. 

The scent of coffee filtered through his fantasy and he cracked one eye open. A quiet, drawn-out inhale caused Neville to shift his gaze from the mug to Snape. He squinted, was Snape smiling? He looked down at the mug warming his hand thinking it must be good coffee to make Snape smile like that and took a sip. 

Neville privately judged the coffee to be Good, but not good enough to pull a smile from a man like Snape. He shrugged internally, too tired to keep up his train of thought, and focused instead on the beverage in front of him - unaware of the man sitting two seats away sneaking a soft glance at him before turning a stern eye at the students beginning to trickle in.

 


End file.
